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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175951">Say My Name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mummified_kitty/pseuds/mummified_kitty'>mummified_kitty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Returns (2001)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ailurophobia, Butterflies, F/M, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Past Lives, butterflies that act suspiciously like flesh-eating scarabs, fluff for monster fuckers, gentle femdom?, hand holding, i don't care, you know i'm a true degenerate because there's handholding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:34:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,485</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mummified_kitty/pseuds/mummified_kitty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I had been kissing a corpse. The corpse hadn’t been kissing me.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Imhotep/Meela Nais</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Say My Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Giza. Finally.</p><p> </p><p>Knowing time was of the essence now that the stupid child had put on the bracelet, instead of taking our time from London, I had insisted-- much to everyone’s chagrin-- that we take my private monoplane. After all, it was more than big enough to carry all of us.</p><p> </p><p>I’m told these things are the way of future commercial air travel. The advantages of being a multimillionaire cannot be understated.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand why we can’t take it across the desert? It’ll be faster than anything else!” I complain again.</p><p> </p><p>Baltus Hafez is deeply vexed by my insistence. “If I spend one more second on this rickety thing, I am going to be sick as a dog!”</p><p> </p><p>Behind him, several woozy cultists groan likewise statements. Even Lock-Nah, holding his chest like a feeble old woman, nods in agreement with Hafez. The defiant brat only glares-- thankfully, a moment of quiet from him.</p><p> </p><p>The corpse… My boyfriend…? Should I be referring to this walking corpse as MY boyfriend…? My lover from my previous life, still mummified, stands stone still. He’s covered head to toe in black robes and a full-face mask, mostly out of courtesy for the child. I am shocked he cares at all about the psyche of that little inconvenience. I wonder what it would take to change his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Despite his current stillness, I know he agrees with the other men.</p><p> </p><p>The previous night, when we were boarding, his initial comment-- in the tongue from my previous life-- was simply, “<em>I have seen a smaller one of these before.</em>” When we took off, like all the others, he gripped the seat in front of him for dear life. At least, until he haphazardly squeezed the back of my hand.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I could not have imagined it being this rough! </em><em>My own sandstorm is smoother!</em>” He remarked, laughing nervously. I found that highly amusing.</p><p> </p><p>I reassured him, “<em>Do not worry, I have been in the air many times before. </em><em>You</em><em> will be </em><em>alright</em><em>.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t expect this to calm him, but immediately, I could tell he was a little more relaxed, the tension in his grip easing. As if remembering himself, he muttered, “<em>Of course </em><em>I</em><em> will, I am not mortal.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>I was the only one who managed to sleep on the overnight flight. I didn’t even know I was resting on the mummy’s shoulder until I woke up. He had kept himself perfectly still for me, apparently while watching clouds pass by out the window.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You did not rest?</em>” I questioned.</p><p> </p><p>He answered, “<em>A condition of the curse is that </em><em>I can never sleep. ...Though, I believe the others s</em><em>imply</em><em> had too much difficulty to do so.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>This gave me a giggle at their expense. The rising sun glinted in my eyes, as immediate karma.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Let me see you in the light.</em>” He said. I didn’t know if it was an order or a request. Regardless, I shifted further into the sunlight, blinding myself, my eyelids pressing shut with a cringe. It couldn’t have been a very attractive look.</p><p> </p><p>His inhuman exhale echoed louder than it should. “<em>Beautiful...</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, I managed to open my eyes again. He was still masked, leaving me unable to see his face, but I could feel his stare. Butterflies crawled into my stomach.</p><p> </p><p>He’s not handsome under there<em>,</em> I reminded myself. But in that moment, I didn’t care.</p><p> </p><p>He reached with a gloved hand and touched my face, his thumb caressing my cheek with such tenderness that I wondered if I was made of glass. To my own disgust, I could feel the butterflies ravaging my insides.</p><p> </p><p>Despite the distortion, I could hear the bitter-sweetness in his voice. “<em>You look so much like her. </em><em>I</em><em>t is not fair...</em>”</p><p> </p><p>When he said that, I could feel my previous self within me practically weeping. I don’t know what becoming her again entails, but the way he said that made me willing to do anything.</p><p> </p><p>...But if I am her, am I still me?</p><p> </p><p>That’s what I was thinking about as we stepped off the plane and into the sun, the mortal men still wobbling from the flight.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, first thing’s first-- I’m hijacking the train.” Lock-Nah declares with the twirl of a sword, quickly regaining his footing and shoving the kid off on Hafez.</p><p> </p><p>I turn my hands up, confused, with a wad of cash practically burning a hole in my purse. “Why bother when I can bribe them into giving it to us?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, come on now, where’s the fun in that?” He grins before running ahead of us, leaving our sight.</p><p> </p><p>We step away further from my plane, an admittedly awkward silver hulk of a machine, and I turn back to wave a farewell to my pilot. He’s used to all our strange habits by now, hopefully. He’s never indicated otherwise. He’s probably a better man than any of us.</p><p> </p><p>Then, we step out of the airfield, through an alley, and into the human fray.</p><p> </p><p>The Egyptian city is bustling with life, with people running, shoving, and shouting in every direction beneath blaring heat. The stench of camel intermingles with baking bread. We pass countless brownish buildings, colorful tents, and the occasional shimmering gold trinkets-- perhaps real, perhaps not-- that merchants are attempting to sell. A man beckons me with such a piece, but I ignore him.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a collective sigh of relief with every new step on land from the men, and soon, the boy is chattering again, taking in every new sight. The others push on beyond me, following notes from Lock-Nah and trying to join in the excitement with the train spotted across the way. Far ahead, I see Red, Spivey, and Jacques meet up with the others, the trio ever-annoyingly boastful, the cursed chest we ordered them to find likely in one of their rucksacks. The corpse, however, stays silent, following a mere couple feet behind me. We walk slower than the rest of them, letting them get lost beyond us.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, when it’s just us, he wistfully ponders, “<em>Everything has changed… Even from my previous resurrection, things are different.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Time moves more quickly now. </em><em>Sometimes it feels as though we can never go back home.</em>” I say before I even know what I’m saying. The past life hits like that sometimes.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Our time is gone, but we ARE home, as long as there is us.</em>” He says. “<em>And soon, it will all belong to us. We could end time, if we so ch</em><em>o</em><em>ose.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Less out of butterflies than the plan of conquest, I smile. “<em>Spill all the sand from the hourglass?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Every last grain.</em>” He promises. “<em>And then, we have eternity together. </em><em>Time will be o</em><em>urs alone.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>I don’t know how the rest of the cult will feel about that, but I don’t care. The butterflies creep over the violence.</p><p> </p><p>Until I remember, his words aren’t really for me, not for who I am now. They’re for who I once was, thousands of years ago. I remind myself the truth: He loves Anck-su-namun and Anck-su-namun loves him. Not me. I’m just the middleman.</p><p> </p><p>...Not to mention, for god’s sake, he’s a corpse!</p><p> </p><p>This line of thought is cut short by an inhuman shriek.</p><p> </p><p>He is much, much closer to me now, his hand gripping mine again, grabbing the back of my hand just like before, his fingers laced through mine and pressing into my palm. I wonder how that would feel without our gloves between us.</p><p> </p><p>It’s then that I notice he’s trembling.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Cat!</em>” He shouts.</p><p> </p><p>I look back ahead, and indeed, there’s a stray tabby with a mostly eaten fish carcass between it’s paws. It’s staring at us incredibly intently, like it expects something from us.</p><p> </p><p>He’s unable to form any other word, trying his best to press himself against me, body against my back, one hand grabbing and pressing my shoulder against him, the other quivering hand still holding mine tight. “<em>Cat!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>The sudden closeness throws me off, numbing my ability to think. I ask, “<em>Cat?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>I can feel his chest heaving against my back. He manages, “<em>They hunted me in the underworld… Tore me apart </em><em>like cursed scarabs</em><em>!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh!” It finally hits me.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>They can still harm me until I am whole again!</em>” He wheezes. I don’t know if he’s right about that or if such things only happen in the underworld. Either way, he’s scared. The apocalypse bringer is scared.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Wait here.</em>” I tell him before I slowly part from him, feeling his absence as the wind meets my back.</p><p> </p><p>I approach the little stray, and I admit, it is keeping it’s eyes on him suspiciously well. I’m practically upon it when it’s attention shifts to me, and it still hasn’t ran. Brave little thing. I almost feel bad shooing it, but it has to be done.</p><p> </p><p>I kick sand at it. “Go!”</p><p> </p><p>It looks up at me, hissing. I kick more sand towards it and command louder, “GO!”</p><p> </p><p>I’ve enraged this little cat something fierce. It takes a clawed swipe at my shoe before taking the remaining fish in it’s mouth and running off towards a different street.</p><p> </p><p>The people around me are glaring. I glance around, meeting their many stares, my annoyance rising. “What?! My boyfriend’s afraid of cats! He’s deathly allergic!”</p><p> </p><p>I just called him my boyfriend. Mine. It was in English, so he doesn’t know. But I do.</p><p> </p><p>Some of the witnesses look away, but some still glare as I walk back to him. Before I even think about it, I grab him by the hand, palms meeting, fingers intertwining, and I state, “<em>We should keep going.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Instead of taking the lead, he follows, keeping his hand firmly in mine. He whispers, “<em>Thank you.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>A smile tugs at me for his gratitude. Though, he didn’t bother attaching a name. Still, I feel a certain something crawling in me.</p><p> </p><p>Ahead, I see the men calling and waving, all on a red locomotive, several throwing off passengers. It seems Lock-Nah succeeded.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>We m</em><em>ust</em><em> run.</em>” I state.</p><p> </p><p>Without further discussion, we are sprinting towards the train, pressing through the crowds, bumping into and past lost tourists and pissed off locals. He shoves some people aside with his free hand, neither of us watching who or what they collide with. It’s not long before we’re feet away from the locomotive, the men shouting as far-off security guards on break take notice of what we’ve done much too late.</p><p> </p><p>As the train sounds off, we jump on, barging our way into a rail-car, my hair still flying. A mere moment later, the train huffs into motion. I giggle like an infatuated teenager, his hand still in mine.</p><p> </p><p>The other men have seen this. They look away in disgust. I calm myself down, and, hesitantly, let go of his hand. I can’t see his face, so I don’t know how he feels. He looks away from me, saying nothing.</p><p> </p><p>Hafez fakes a cough once politely. He then speaks to the mummy, “<em>We’re preparing a space for you alone, as requested.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>He agrees, “<em>Very well. Show me the way.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Of course.</em>” Hafez leads.</p><p> </p><p>I am not far behind as I notice our terrible treasure-hunter trio to my right, ever gloating, but much more confused than the cult members about our entrance.</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s the covered up bloke, eh?” Spivey asks.</p><p> </p><p>I snap back, “He’s important! I’ll be back later!”</p><p> </p><p>I catch the sleazeball turn back and raise his eyebrows at the other two men before I exit the car.</p><p> </p><p>When we reach what will be the private car, all the windows are already covered. Quick work for the sake of their leader. Some decorations are on the ground waiting to be set up.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You have all done well here. Now, </em><em>I </em><em>would</em><em> like to speak with her alone.</em>” The corpse requests.</p><p> </p><p>Hafez is dumbfounded. He glances from the mummy, to me, then back to the mummy. Slowly, he relents, “<em>...Of course.</em>” Then calls to the others, “Five minute break! Get out!”</p><p> </p><p>Sighing with relief—some of them glancing at me knowingly-- they all file out. Hafez looks at me, concerned, before shutting the door behind himself.</p><p> </p><p>It’s just us. Butterflies crawl up again.</p><p> </p><p>For a few moments, he says nothing, still facing away from me. When he turns back, he says, “<em>Thank you... </em><em>I am… sorry you had to see that.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>See w</em><em>hat?”</em> I ask.</p><p> </p><p>He hesitates a long moment. “<em>...The way I am around… cats...</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Everyone fears something</em>.” I reassure him.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Still, I know it must seem p</em><em>athetic</em><em>. I...</em>” His sigh is much too loud to be human. “<em>...I am embarrassed.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Imhotep.</em>” I finally speak his name. “<em>It </em><em>is</em><em> nothing to be ashamed of.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Anck… Forgive me. Meela.</em>” He corrects himself.</p><p> </p><p>There it is. Dead butterflies.</p><p> </p><p>Back in London, he kissed me.</p><p> </p><p>It was natural that I backed away from the corpse when he first approached me, but he gave me this vision. I could see him like he was (as he puts it) whole, and gorgeous, and I couldn’t keep myself from him. It was like I’d found something I’d been missing for a very long time. Centuries-- no, millennia. I felt like I was his.</p><p> </p><p>I wasn’t even mad for the brief moment when it came back to me, what I was really kissing. It was still him.</p><p> </p><p>I don’t think he realized I was out of the vision when I finally parted from him to breathe. Disgust was starting to hit me, but somehow, I didn’t care.</p><p> </p><p>Then he said it. “<em>Anck-su-namun.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>I snapped back fully. I had been kissing a corpse. The corpse hadn’t been kissing me.</p><p> </p><p>I shoved him away, more forcefully than I expected. I didn’t know how angry that would make me-- I hadn’t even expected that part of the equation to make me angry. I knew that I was both her and not her. Why did the difference suddenly matter to me?</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t shocked. However, he didn’t take it as a matter of the name, but a matter of the body. “<em>Forgive me. </em><em>I know this form is not ideal. </em><em>It has been a long time since--</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Never do that again.</em>” I demanded with no further explanation. It felt like I had to force myself to speak.</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, believing he understood. “<em>Forgive me, Anck… no… what is your name?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Disappointment sat on the chest heavier than a dead elephant. He hadn’t even asked my name in this life before that moment. “<em>Meela</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Forgive me, Meela.</em>” He requested. My name sounded completely wrong coming from his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>I nodded, but didn’t-- couldn’t-- say anything. I tried to show no further emotion. I just looked back at London and waited with him in silence until the bracelet-wearing child arrived.</p><p> </p><p>But now, alone in this rail-car, I can’t help myself.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>May I ask what separates me from my past self?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>He’s taken aback by the question at first, but then states simply, “<em>Years. Lifetimes.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>I clarify, “<em>No, I mean… what makes me a different person?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>There is a long hesitation. For a moment, I’m worried he’ll say nothing. But then, he speaks.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Anck-su-namun was not afraid to die. You are not afraid to live. Even when others… even when </em><em><b>I</b></em><em> am. These may seem like small things to you modern people, but, </em><em>your ease in this new world, on </em><em>that thing </em><em>we rode </em><em>in the sky, </em><em>with </em><em>the... cat... </em><em>N</em><em>ot to mention,</em> <em>in </em><em>this life, YOU are the one that found ME...</em><em> a</em><em>ll of it </em><em>make</em><em>s</em><em> me feel as though you are in charge. </em><em>Y</em><em>OU</em> <em>are</em><em> the one protecting </em><em>ME</em><em>. ...</em><em>I am not used to it, but it is… pleasant.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>The butterflies resurrect and attack with vengeance.</p><p> </p><p>He speaks further, as if to justify himself, “<em>I am an unholy flesh-eater. It makes no sense that I feel weakness or fear. When I have the Army of Anubis-- no, even when I </em><em>am</em><em> whole, this will be an entirely different--</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Take your mask off.</em>” I order.</p><p> </p><p>He freezes, saying nothing-- another long, silent hesitation. Then, finally, he removes it.</p><p> </p><p>It’s true that by regular human standards, he is hideous. He’s a decayed body, preserved and mummified, but at many points, horrifically transparent. There’s a giant hole on one side of his skull, smaller holes elsewhere, and his cheeks are barely there-- you can easily see his teeth through them. In the middle of it all, his eyes-- which he stole-- remain perfectly human. I can understand why staring straight at him and having him stare straight back at you would be unnerving, and yet… I want him to keep staring.</p><p> </p><p>It’s very interesting to see the blatant confusion on his face. It’s not an expression I’ve come to expect from him, even when he encounters something new.</p><p> </p><p>I make another demand. “<em>Say my name.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>He is still deeply confused, squinting for a moment, but he humors me. “<em>Meela</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The crawling sensation is almost too much to bear. My name still sounds unnatural coming from him, but I want to hear it. “<em>Say it again.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>His growing smirk tells me he’s starting to understand.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Meela</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>I breathe. It feels like I’ve been underwater and he’s finally pulling me up. The butterflies burst from my abdomen and cover my entire being. I grab him by his robes and pull him to me. Like a train wreck, our lips crash together.</p><p> </p><p>His body is a cacophony of things that should not exist. His lips are impossibly dry but perfectly flexible. He’s a temperature that isn’t cold, but can’t be called warm either. He’s both alive and dead at once-- as are the two beings that make up me.</p><p> </p><p>His scent, like a museum piece, is musty. I don’t care.</p><p> </p><p>I try to caress his face and accidentally touch teeth. I don’t care.</p><p> </p><p>My tongue finds his. It isn’t his. It’s a tongue he stole from someone else. I don’t care.</p><p> </p><p>Disgust circles back around and becomes arousal. I gasp for air, my lips on his for too long.</p><p> </p><p>He tries to speak. “<em>Meela, if you are this fond of me now, w</em><em>hen</em><em> I am whole--</em>”</p><p> </p><p>I silence him. Mouth again against mouth. His robes are coming slightly undone; I pull them apart further. My hands find nearly exposed collarbone and bare chest musculature. His remaining skin shakes with every breath. There’s a bullet hole in his chest. You can see in. Body hollow. Lung-less. Heartless. I don’t know why I like this. I don’t care.</p><p> </p><p>I am more frenzy than person. There is no vision to tempt me in. There’s only him and me. Imhotep and Meela. It sounds sacred. It sounds like a deal made with the devil. It tastes like salt and rust. It feels like butterflies on fire.</p><p> </p><p>I need him more than I need oxygen. I don’t know if I’m going to stop. I barely hear the door open.</p><p> </p><p>We are still kissing while Hafez speaks, jumping between languages. “Erm… Uh… The idiot treasure hunters are making demands, so, <em>I need Meela’s help. And the boy needs a talking to.</em> And I brought your bag with a change of clothes, and… Eh...” Slowly, he gives up, shutting the door again.</p><p> </p><p>One more kiss. Deep. Disgusting. Wonderful. And then we part.</p><p> </p><p>If this is what it’s like right now, when he’s whole, I’m going to die.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Right... Time to... set the boy straight.</em>” He says, adjusting his robes back into place. The supernatural being is somehow left breathless, his inhales and exhales heavy.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Time to... kill three idiots.</em>” I reply, equally breathless. I pick up his mask, which had been dropped on the ground in the midst of our enthusiasm.</p><p> </p><p>Imhotep takes the mask back and states, “<em>Boy first, then idiots. Trust me.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>And then…?</em>” I ask, not at all coy.</p><p> </p><p>I feel his hand find the small of my back. He pulls me close and growls-- really growls-- into my ear, “<em>And then, </em><em>Meela, </em><em>a</em><em>ll of me is yours for the taking</em><em>.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>All mine</em><em>...</em>” The thought makes me shiver. I can barely wait. I sneak one more tiny kiss in before he puts the mask back on, and then I leave quickly while I still have the strength to stand.</p><p> </p><p>On the other side of the now closed door, Hafez looks at me, concerned. “Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fantastic!” I smirk.</p><p> </p><p>He eyes me suspiciously. “I was worried about you back there. I know the last time he gave you a vision and a kiss, it didn’t go so well. I mean, he is disgusting like this, it’s understandable.”</p><p> </p><p>“There was no vision this time.”</p><p> </p><p>“No… no vision?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“...Then... why…?” He begins the question, then chickens out of finishing it.</p><p> </p><p>My smirk grows into a grin. The answer will horrify him. I don’t care.</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, I think he’s cute.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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